Agony
by VoidOfMe
Summary: Alfred Pennyworth is dead. What will Bruce Wayne do? Jim Gordon steps in to the rescue, but he might be in over his head.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! So this is a LOT different from anything I've ever written, and it's definitely a new kind of story for our page. This was actually a reader's request, (yes we take request). We promise to look at your requests and see if either of us wants to write it or has time to, BUT we do not promise to write it. Sometimes life just gets us, ya know? Anyway. Thank you guys so much for the continual support! Feel free to review, follow, PM, or favorite!**

 **We do not own the characters in this story unless otherwise specified; all credits go to the Gotham writers and cast.**

 **Warning: There will be mentions of self-harm in this fic. If you do not do well with this, or have struggled and are struggling, you may be wary of this. I understand this is a sensitive topic, and coming from someone who has experience it, I understand some people will not want to read it because of said subject. I felt it added to the story. Thank you for your understanding. ~ G**

Bruce's warm empty feeling disappeared after he was rescued by the team from Galavan's clutches the moment he realized one thing - Alfred was not here. Alfred's always here. He wouldn't have let them come without him unless something had happened.

"Where's Alfred?" Bruce asked, nervously. Harvey Bullock shook his head and looked away. Selina looked on the verge of tears.

"He.. Um.." Detective Jim Gordon looked down at the boy. "He didn't make it Bruce.."

And the world went black.

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Bruce woke up to a stark white room and beeping monitors, all hooked in various places on his body. His head hurt, and so did his heart when he remembered what had happened. He felt that his right palm was heavy, and he looked over to see Selina asleep in a chair, clutching his hand for dear life.

"S-Selina," Bruce murmured, his voice weak after days of not using it. She jolted with a start and rubbed her eyes.

"W-Wha," she yawned, "what's up kid?" He looked deep into her eyes and she looked away. She already knew what he was going to ask.

"What happened?"

"Well, you know. Galavan kidnapped you, and so a bunch of us got together, kicked ass, and got you back and Detective Gordon did this really cool thing while he was fighting and-"

"No. What.. What happened to him?" The boy asked, with huge, watery eyes. He looked like he had gone back to six-years-old, asking why their puppy was not coming home from the vet.

"He.. He died for you, kid.." Selina looked away. "He went looking for you when he couldn't find you, but found Tabitha Galavn instead. She.. She cut him real bad, shot him even. He survived all that, and ended up in the dump. Tabitha and her goons chased him through the dump, but he.. He managed to escape. He limped his way back to the police station to find Jim Gordon and tell him that he knew Theo Galavan had taken you but.. He never made it.. He bled out from his wounds about three blocks from the police station."

Bruce drew his breath and bit his bottom lip. He could not cry in front of Selina.

"A passerby saw him on the ground and ran to the police station," she continued, "Jim came out and found him. He told Jim who had you, so he was able to come find you.. He.. He's the reason we found you," she finished, tears visibly coming down her face. "I'm sorry, Bruce.. He's.. He's gone."

Bruce whimpered and Selina looked at him. She leaned over and hugged him tight, and Bruce gave up his steely look.

A heart-wrenching sob could be heard from across the hospital. So much so, a nurse ran from the nurses' station ran into the room, panicked and thinking something had happened to Bruce. Well, medically, that is.

Nothing could undo the damage that had been done to the boy's mind. Three. That brings the total to three guardians. Three guardian angels, now.

Bruce cried, and he cried. Selina didn't know it was possible for one person's heart to be torn into so many pieces as Bruce Wayne's was, but she held him as he cried, and that he did. She didn't blame him. She held him, and she cried some, too.

Alfred had touched them all. He had done so much for all of them, taking them in, making them his. The girl tried to make Bruce smile, but nothing helped. She told memories of the butler, which only led to more crying and screaming.

This vicious cycle continued for seven hours, twenty minutes, and sixteen seconds, Selina had counted every second. She would never forget those seven hours, twenty minutes, and sixteen seconds of her life. She would be haunted by those sobs, screams, and shakes for the rest of her nights. That was something she would never forget.

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Detective Jim Gordon had walked into the hospital room to see two broken teenagers, one more than the other, tangled together in an embrace that never ended.

He took a breath as he knocked on the side of the door, causing both of them go look up.

He had never seen a more heart-wrenching sight in all his years of being with he police, but he would deal with that later. He came with a purpose, and a promise to fulfill. He came to take the boy home.

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 _Alfred Pennyworth had sustained many injuries in his days, but none without going so long without treatment. He thought it was ironic he would die of the same stab would he inflicted upon many others in the war. He wondered how the Queen was doing; the old woman never dies. It's funny the thoughts that go through a man right before he's about to die. That was, until Jim Gordon was right above him, kneeling over him like he was some sort of dead man. Oh wait._

 _"Alfred?.. Oh, Alfred.. The boy," Jim worried._

 _"He's," Alfred coughed and blood came up, "Theo. Galavan." Jim nodded and understood._

 _"Alright. We can get him. But we have to get you help-"_

 _"No... Go now. There's no time. If you do not get to Bruce fast, he will be dead within the hour," Alfred croaked._

 _"But-"_

 _"No buts. That boy.. He is far more important to this city than I.. And.. It's time. I pledged to give my life for that boy and I have. Go now."_

 _"A-Alright," Jim said as he got up to leave Alfred, only moments away from death._

 _"Wait, Jim.. Promise me something," Alfred whispered._

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Take care of him. Take care of my boy. He'll.. He'll need.. Need it."_

 _Jim nodded, and the man slowly laid his head down to the ground. He was okay now. He saw the wondrous golden light in the sky he had heard so much about. He hoped that Bruce would be okay. There was no time for him left on this earth anymore, but he hoped he would be granted permission to come watch over him. Alfred wanted to be able to watch his boy grow up. Well, more than he already had._

 _And with those last thoughts, and the image of Jim Gordon running towards the police station, yelling frantically, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth retired from his job as a butler, and from this earth. He had made his promise to the Wayne's he would give his life for their boy, and he did. But, what a wonderful sacrifice he was able to make._

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Bruce sat in Jim Gordon's apartment, staring into the darkness. It was normal nowadays. Jim was used to walking in to seeing the boy standing near the edge of the window, or next to the fire place, too close for Jim's liking. It wasn't until the day he walked into Bruce Wayne standing in the kitchen with a knife, and numerous slits in his arms that he was truly concerned.

"Bruce.. Whatcha got there?" Jim said softly, approaching as if Bruce were a wild animal, aloof and ready to run. Bruce looked up, eyes panicked and backed up, still holding the knife. "Bruce?"

"It should have been me."

"No, no, don't say that! He loved you very much."

"Then why did he go?" Bruce cried out and dropped to the floor, dropping the knife. Jim rushed over and picked up the frail boy, he hadn't been eating lately, and carried him over to the couch. He ran into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and ran back into the room, hoping Bruce hadn't gotten the knife again. He was relieved to see Bruce was just sitting, staring blankly at a wall, again.

"Bruce. Why did you do this?" Jim asked him as he bandaged the boy's arms. "Would he have wanted this for you?" The boy sobbed again.

"It's so cold, Jim. It's cold everywhere. That's why I sit next to the fireplace all the time. It's cold, but not outside. It's cold.. Inside me." The boy began to shiver. "It's so cold.. I just.. Can't do it anymore."

Jim Gordon wrapped his arms around the boy and suddenly he understood what the boy meant.

The butler was a part of the boy. It's like taking a piece of the puzzle out of the box, and asking someone to put it back together. You may still have the puzzle, but it will never be the same. The boy lost a piece of him that day when Alfred Pennyworth died. The two were connected, linked to each other by the soul. They were so deeply intertwined with each other, one cannot exist without the other. His warm presence is gone, and Bruce has nothing.

"I don't understand why," Bruce murmured blankly, "why bad things happen to good people. My parents were good people. Alfred was the best person I knew. I don't understand why.." The boy choked on a sob, "why they took him away from me. He was all I had left. He was ALL I HAD LEFT!"

Jim wrapped they boy up in his arms and rocked him back and forth. "Bruce, Bruce it's okay."

"He's gone," the boy murmured. "He's gone forever."

"He's still with you. Always. Remember that Bruce," the detective whispered into the boy's ear.

"Please.. Please make it go away.. Make the pain go away...," the boy sobbed out.

The boy screamed loudly, but it was not an angry scream. It was one filled with such agony that not even the bearers of nightmares visited him that night. Jim Gordon had no idea what to do, so he did all he knew to do. He held the teenager turned little boy in an adult's war.

He held the boy and sang him an old English folk song, as his screams of agony rung out into the night. So agonizing, even the cats with Selina Kyle did not dare to sleep.

 **A/N: So there it is! It's definitely.. Different. Let me know what you think! Heh.. Thank you guys, as always, for your support! Feel free to check out our other fics! Thanks!**

 **~G**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys! So.. Funny story.. Heh.. The last chapter was actually supposed to be a one-shot and was mislabeled as "In-Progress".. But, since a lot of you liked it, I think it's worth giving it a shot! We'll see where this wild ride take us! Feel free to review, follow, favorite, or PM us! So, without further ado, here's Chapter 2 of Agony.**

 **We do not own the characters in this story unless specifically states otherwise. All credit goes to the Gotham writers, directors, and cast.**

 **Warning: There are mentions of self-harm in this story. If you do not do well with it, or have struggled with it and/or are struggling, feel free to turn away from this story. Being one who has struggled, I understand not being able to handle it at the point you are at in your life; I'm sorry, but I feel it adds to the story. ~G**

"You did what?" Harvey Bullock shouted at Detective James Gordon from two desks down. Jim rolled his eyes.

"Gee, thanks Harvey. Really wasn't hoping for your support."

"It's not that I don't support this decision but.." Harvey sighed, "are you cut out for this?"

James Gordon looked him straight in the eyes, his intense gaze never faltering. "No. I'm not. But I'll do my damnedest. That boy deserves at least that."

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"Bruce, I'm home!" Jim shouted as he closed the door to his apartment. "I've got Chinese!" He said, setting the cartons on the kitchen table.

Still, there was no response from the boy.

"Bruce?"

He took a few steps into the dark apartment and listened closely. A faint whimper could be heard from the bedroom, and Jim sprinted in the direction.

"Bruce!" Jim was yelling over and over as he threw the door open. He found the boy laying on the floor, his back to him, staring out the window.

Jim ran to his side and turned him towards him, relieved to see that he was only asleep. The boy began to stir and Jim froze. He did not want to wake Bruce up if he was asleep; he barely got any rest nowadays.

Come to think of it, Jim could never think of a time he saw the boy sleeping. Peacefully, that is.

He's seen the boy in his nightmarish state too many times. Tossing and turning, groaning and screaming, terrified of the memories and faces that continually haunted him, never ceasing to release him from his endless torment. It broke Jim's heart. No child should ever have to experience that kind of pain.

But this, this was different. Jim Gordon had never seen such a serene sight. Nothing is as heavenly as a child, and nothing is as purely innocent as the face of one asleep. He let out a long sigh, and sat with the boy's head in his lap, wondering how he ended up in his situation.

He wasn't cut out for this. He could barely take care of himself; how did he expect to take care of another human being? But, he made a promise to the crotchety old butler with the gaze of ice and the heart of fire. He had never felt such a pull towards something in his life. He knew he had to do this, for Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth.

He'd always heard about it, the tug. The thing that pulls two human beings together, no matter the kind of relationship. He has never experienced it until he looked into Alfred Pennyworth's eyes and saw how much the butler and the boy were connected by a deep tug.

So, Jim Gordon left the Chinese food on the kitchen table, and held the boy tight as he sleep the whole night through. He had to do this. It was his duty. It was the tug.

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"I don't want to do this," Bruce growled as Jim guided him through a door that smelled of a sterile hospital.

"I know, but you are anyway," Jim replied as they walked into the therapist's office. "It will help."

"No it won't."

"Bruce," Jim sighed. "Please just try it? You only have to do it once if it turns out to be a bad idea."

"Fine," Bruce huffed. "It'll be fun anyways," he smiled devilishly.

Jim groaned.

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Five minutes into his "therapeutic visit" and Bruce Wayne already had whoever this woman was, he forgot her name, crying.

"And.. And he just left us, my dad. He never even looked back," the woman cried.

"I know, I know. I understand," Bruce patted her back with "sympathy". These whack-jobs normally had some sort of emotional issue deeply troubling them from their past. That's why they became therapists and psychologists. So they could "help people" with the "same problems" they had.

Well, Bruce had decided. This woman did not know absolute shit about what he was experiencing, and no one would.

About five minutes of continual blubbering about some man named Robert later, Bruce Wayne stood up.

"I think I'll take this as my cue to leave. I'm deeply sorry about Jeff-"

"Robert."

"Robert," Bruce sighed, "but we'll be in touch. Please do contact my personal assistant if you would like future appointments," he said as he handed the woman "James Gordon, GCPD"'s card, and walked back into the waiting room.

"Jim, I'm ready to go now."

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"What did you do?" Jim raised his eyebrow at the boy.

"I helped her through some issues. All in a day's work," the boy continued walking towards the car. Jim stopped him.

"Do you think this is some sort of joke, Bruce? Because it's not."

"What ever do you mean?" The boy questioned, a dangerous look in his eye. Jim fell for it.

"This! All of this! Your life! My life! Which is now a part of your life! All of it!"

"Hmm."

"Your parents," him seethed, "are dead."

The boy froze.

"Alfred. Is dead. In case you haven't noticed, I'm all you have left. And you aren't doing very well, to be honest."

The boy turned around and his eyes darkened.

"You think I don't know this?" The boy growled. "It's the reason I don't sleep. The reason I don't eat. The reason I don't want to be on this fucking planet anymore," Bruce screamed in the middle of a crowd of people.

"I'm stuck! It never ends!" Bruce was lost, his eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop. "It never ends! I live in a haze of depression medication and artificial happiness that the doctors prescribe, but do you honestly think that works?" He looked toward the busy street. Jim realized the boy's thoughts immediately.

"No. No, Bruce don't."

"Why?" The boy's voice cracked. "No one would care. Except Selina, but she's probably half-way across the country now. I wouldn't blame her."

"No Bruce. That's not true."

"Then who. Who would miss me?" He softly spoke, taking a step backwards.

Jim leapt forward, grabbing the boy and wrapping him up in a tight embrace.

"I-I would. I would miss you. You're all I have left, too, you know," the detective let out a breath, and the boy broke.

"It.. It never ends. Why doesn't it just-" he choked on a sob, "end."

"That would be too easy," Jim smiled crestfallenly.

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Bruce woke up to a tap on the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap. It sounded like scratching. He got up and checked the window, and has to recoil to pick himself up off the ground. He opened the window.

"S-Selina? What are you doing here?" Bruce stuttered. "It's like. Two in the morning."

"Yeah?" She asked, nonchalantly.

"And. I-I thought you left town," he looked down.

She looked to the side. "I decided to wait. I have business to attend to here, first." He decided it was best not to ask. "Throw some clothes on kid."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out."

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After about an hour of chasing Selina over various roofs and chimneys, Bruce finally caught the cat-like girl when she stopped at an building fifty-two stories up, with a panoramic view of the whole city.

Bruce sighed and looked at the beauty of the city of lights - of the empire. It was not his yet, the city nor the empire, but it would be his problem. Someday.

"It's weird to think," the girl murmured, distracted by the lights, "that a place so full of terrible things and people, could be so beautiful." Bruce nodded.

She sat down and he sat down next to her, and they scooted close to each other, feet dangling over the edge.

He looked out over the edge. "Have you.. Have you ever just wanted to fall? Over the edge?" Bruce asked. Selina looked at him cross and put her arm across his chest as if to keep him from going anywhere.

"Oh no you don't."

"No!" He sighed, frustrated, and moved her arm. "I'm not gonna!" He huffed. "I was just.. Wondering."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well.. Yes. I'm sure everyone does at one point in time. You can only take so much."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed.

"When my mom left, I was alone on the streets. I cared so much about her. I knew she'd come back for me. She always did. But this time.. She never did."

She chuckled to herself. "You know, it's sad. The slow descending of everyone around you into madness," she sighed.

He gave her an inquisitive glance, and she went on.

"People can only care so much, until finally, they get burnt out. And then.. They just don't care anymore. It's how the world works.. It's sad, really. Seeing everyone around you descend into darkness. Eventually, you go down with them. That was my cliff. But, I'm lucky, you know. Cats always land on their feet." He smiled at that.

The sun began to rise as Selina finished her story.

"Thank you," he said to her. She looked at him questioningly.

"Why?"

"I.. I needed this." She just smiled.

"I know. See you around."

And with that she was gone, leaving Bruce sitting, staring over the edge. He couldn't help but wonder who she really was. If people were water, he was a mountain brook, and she was an ocean, torrential and pulling every different, confusing direction.

 **A/N: There you go! Feel free to review, follow, favorite, or PM us! Thank you for reading, and go check out our other stories! ~G**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to get this most recent chapter up... Life.. Happened. Anyway! I'm back with a vengeance and ready to write again! Thank you guys for sticking it through!**

 **Warning: There is self-harm in this story. If you cannot take it, feel free to exit off this story. I understand.**

 **~G**

The alleyway was dark, narrow, and damp; it was everything Jim Gordon hated. It was raining, and the small indentation in the city's most intricate streets was a reprieve from the torrential downpour that had graced Gotham that night. It was the only place, however, that Selina Kyle would agree to meet him, so he had no choice.

Speak of the devil, here she finally came, sauntering down the pathway. She was late - of course she was.

"Sup Gordon," she blatantly stated as she walked up.

"You're late," he deadpanned.

"And?" He sighed.

"Anyway," he continued, "I wanted.. To talk to you."

"I kinda figured," she raised her eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Bruce," her cat-like playfulness immediately disappeared. "He can't sleep. He won't eat. He barely speaks. He won't even go out of the house unless I make him. I've exhausted all of my options. I don't know what to do," he sighed.

"Why did you come to me for this?" She questioned.

"Because," he looked at her with a focused gaze, "you know him unlike anyone else. You were there when his parents died, and you were there when Alfred died. You were the only one in that hospital room with him. So somehow you know how to get to him. So please," he pleaded, "help me. I don't know what to do."

Selina sat quiet for a minute, but eventually spoke.

"I'll do what I can," Gordon sighed with relief, "but. You have to do one thing."

"And what is that?"

"You have to get him off those damn medications. They are killing him from the inside. You want to help him? You start by getting HIM back. Not the mindless, yet never-ending minded Bruce. And you wonder why he's been staring at walls like a vegetable."

Jim nodded. It made sense, really. Why hasn't he thought of it sooner?

"Alright. I'll work on it."

"Good. You know where to find me. We'll be in touch. Oh, and Jim?" Selina's voice quieted when she called him by his name. It was a first, and Jim instantly knew it was important. "I hope you can help him. He needs all the help that he can get right now."

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"No."

"You can't just say no to everything!" Jim sighed in frustration as he tried to talk Bruce into going outside with him.

"Yes I can."

"Bruce!"

"Yes?" Bruce smiled coyly. "Better? I didn't say no."

It had been two weeks since Jim Gordon had grabbed the bottle of depression medication on Bruce's bedside table and threw it as far as he could into the ocean that surrounded Gotham's east coast. Even though it meant Bruce was getting better, it also meant that his old stubbornness was coming back.

"Bruce," Jim sighed. "All I'm saying, is that you might enjoy going outside. It's better than being cooped up in here with nothing but books."

"And I for one appreciate your suggestion, so thank you," Bruce smiled. Jim had, simply put it, had it.

"Okay. We're going outside," Jim said as he opened up the blind wide. Bruce recoiled as the light lit the room up brightly.

"I already told you I don't fucking want to!" Bruce groaned.

"Vulgarity," Jim said, throwing Bruce a coat - it was chilly outside, after all, "is no substitute for wit. Remember that."

Bruce grumbled and put on the coat as they left the apartment.

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It was a sunny afternoon, chilly, but sunny nonetheless. Gotham really was a beautiful place, once you looked past all of the death, criminals, dirt, disease, rampant poverty, and homeless people.. Well. Parts of Gotham were really pretty. You just had to know where to look.

Bruce and Jim sat on a park bench; to a normal person, it would look like nothing significant - but everything is significant in the world of a Wayne.

"Bruce," Jim stated.

"Hmm?"

"How are you?"

"How am I?"

"How are you."

"How am I." He turned to look at Jim, and met his eyes for the first time in a long time. "Do you want the real answer or the bullshit I tell that therapist?"

"You didn't tell that therapist anything."

"Exactly." Bruce and Jim shared a smiled, and in that moment, Jim realized he was dealing with a far more advanced human being than he would meet in most of his lifetime.

Bruce Wayne was a complicated person. Far too neurotic for his age, he was being diagnosed with everything those doctors could think of. And here, he seemed to be a fully functioning person with nothing "wrong". He was complex mind, and Jim appreciated that. He liked a challenge. But this Bruce Wayne, this was the first time Bruce Wayne had ever opened up. He would never miss this opportunity.

"I want the real answer."

"The real answer," Bruce paused. "The real answer.. I feel numb. But I feel less numb than I did when I was living in the haze from day to day. I kind of miss it.. Not being able to feel anything. But at the same time, I don't. I hate feeling. But now, at least I feel something. Other than blank. Empty. Numb. Void. I'd rather feel anything, even pain, than nothing at all. Does that make sense?"

"Of course," Jim nodded, and mentally cursed. That was it? They boy had gave him everything, but nothing at the same time. He had given Jim what he would, but he was not ready to give anymore, and that was okay. But that didn't mean that Jim still didn't say all the words he didn't allow Bruce to say. Several, several times.

"I'm finally beginning to understand what going on in my life. A little at a time.. It's not much, but it's something. I'm learning my purpose. My passions. My place. I'm trying to figure out why on earth I'm still here. I've had enough reason to not be.." Bruce trailed off.

"Hey.. Look. Bruce." Jim waited until he got his attention. "I want you to know, that I'm here for you. If you need anything, it's my job now."

"That's the thing.. It's just a job, isn't it?" Bruce smiled sadly. "That's all anyone sees me as anymore. I'm a job, something they have to do. Something they have to fix."

Jim realized what Bruce thought he meant after a moment and mentally groaned. "No! That's not what I meant, Bruce. You know why I'm taking care of you? Why I took you under my custody?"

Bruce shook his head.

"I made a promise. A promise I intend to keep."

"What was it?" Jim smiled.

"I promised to keep you safe. I promised I would look after you and make sure you went on alright. I promised that I would take care of you, and continue on his responsibility."

Bruce looked down. "You promised Alfred?"

Jim smiled again. "Yes. I promised Alfred. It seems I have pretty big shoes to fill. But, you know. I think we'll get along. Hey. We have a one hundred percent rate on surviving bad days, so I think that's pretty good." Bruce smiled at that.

"We'll just have to see where this takes us, huh?" Jim looked at Bruce for approval. This was it. This was the moment that defined the rest of their lives.

"Yeah. We'll just have to see," Bruce said with finality. Jim took a breath for what felt like the first time in ages and then smiled a big smile. A bright, bold smile, that held on throughout the day, even as it began to rain when the walked home.

Just like the twelve, rainy blocks home, Jim and Bruce still had a long road ahead. They, however, would walk the journey together, their newfound friendship forged through fire, with much more fire to come.

 **A/N: Thanks you for reading! As always, feel free to follow, favorite, PM, or review us! Make sure to check out our other stories! Thanks!**

 **~G**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took me so long.. I had a bunch of All-State/All-District Clinic stuff I've been super busy with this past month. I'll try to get back on a weekly update schedule for Agony and His Boy. Feel free to leave input on either story, and let me know how I'm doing! Thanks guys! You know the drill by now, or so I hope. ~G**

 **Warning: Self-harm is VERY prevalent in this chapter. I will not be offended if you decided not to read this story because of it. I just want to warn you if you are one struggling with this. As one who has struggled, I understand. If you do struggle, I promise it will be okay someday. Life does get better. Now, onto the story.**

"What?" Detective Jim Gordon asked Detective Harvey Bullock, perhaps a little too loudly.

"You heard me! The bust is tonight. This could be our biggest case in months!" Harvey whispered tensely. If word got out about this major crime stop they were about to pull, you'd have every police officer in Gotham wanting in on it. Thanks to an anonymous tip, they had information on illegal dealings involving the Maroni clan going on in Falcone's territory. If they could pull this one out, the pair would most definitely get a little extra at the end of the week.

"When?" Jim sighed. He hated getting involved in Falcone's dirty business.

"Tonight, 11 p.m.," Harvey rolled his eyes. He had already told Jim twice. "Meet me at the littler bar on the corner of Blanc and 45th."

"Wait," Jim sighed a little anxiously. "What about Bruce?"

"What about him?"

"Well.. I don't want to leave him alone."

"He's a fourteen-year-old boy!"

"With very severe emotional problems!" Jim fired back.

"He'll be fine for one night! We have big fish to fry."

"I made a promise that I wouldn't let anything happen to that boy, and if something happens and-"

"Blah, blah, blah, you made a promise, and you're a class act and the best guy on the whole damn planet," Bullock looked at Gordon with little to no sympathy, earning a hard glare in return. When he saw Jim refusing to budge, he sighed and shook his head. "And also the most stubborn. Look. All I'm saying, is that the kid should be fine for, what, three hours? Just make sure he's asleep and he'll be fine."

"I don't like this," Jim grumbled.

"Yeah and I don't like brunettes with my bourbon but I settle," Harvey said, picking up his jacket and standing up.

"That didn't even make sense!"

"C'mon, you have a job to do," Bullock smirked and led a dumbstruck Gordon out of the police station.

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Scrape.

Clink.

Clatter.

Bruce and Jim ate in silence, other than the noise of their silverware scraping the plate. Jim was okay with the noise, however, because it meant Bruce was actually eating.

"How was school today?" Jim asked.

"Fine."

"Homework?"

"Done."

"Plans?"

"No."

"Alright, then," Jim coughed awkwardly. He hated when Bruce got in these moods. He would just stare into space, not acknowledging anything except when Jim tripped over him when he was in the floor; at least he was eating this time, though.

"I think I'm going to head to bed."

"Alright, then. Do you need anything?"

"Sleep."

"Oh.. Alright. Well. Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Detective Gordon," Bruce said, somewhat distant. He headed towards his bedroom and closed the door, much to Jim's dismay. He hated when he couldn't see what Bruce was doing. It worried him. He never would understand that kid.

These were the nights when Bruce needed him most, though. He hated leaving him in this state, but he would just have to make it quick. He could not leave Bruce alone for long - that he knew for sure.

.

.

.

"Where are you going?" Bruce questioned when Jim turned the light on in the living room.

"Holy hell!" Jim gasped, unaware of Bruce's presence in the room. "What did I say about sneaking up on people?"

"Hmm," Bruce chucked, "you sound like Alfred."

Jim coughed awkwardly. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was."

"Why'd you get up?"

"Why were you leaving?" Bruce countered.

"I'm leaving," Jim stated as he grabbed his jacket off the hook.

"Why."

"Because this is my house and I can leave when I want to."

"Police business?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Jim sighed and nodded. "Will you be okay?"

Bruce smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Alright.. Please try and sleep, at least?"

"I'll try."

"Thank you. I'll see you when I get back."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Jim closed the door and walked down the hallway of his apartment, his mind far from the upcoming investigation. He just can't shake the thought in his mind. Bruce will be fine.

Won't he?

He'll be fine.

.

.

.

To young Bruce Wayne, Detective Gordon's apartment seemed even bigger than the manor without him there. Everything was so big; it was so empty, so dark. It was cold, Bruce noticed. So cold. It felt just like his insides when Alfred..

No.

He can't go down that road, not tonight. Detective Gordon isn't here to stop him.

Although. That would make it so much easier. He could just slip away into darkness, no one there to stop him. No one would be there - it would be a breeze, really. Detective Gordon could find his cold, lifeless body. They could have the funeral in the little, but nice, red church on the corner of 25th and Beale. He could finally join Mom, Dad, and Alfred.

It would all be so easy.

Bruce shivered. It was so damn cold. It never ended. The darkness alway found a way to creep up on him.

And the cold.

 _Shiver._

God damn it. Bruce tripped and fell trying to get to the thermostat on the wall.

What could he do anymore? He couldn't stop it.

 _Shiver._

He should just end it now. It'd make it easier.

 _Shiver._

So much easier.

 _Shiver._

So much easier.

That's why, when Bruce made his was to the kitchen, he was not surprised. He welcomed the sound of the drawer opening, the feeling of the cold - _shiver_ \- metal on his skin.

He smiled as the metal sliced his newly healed skin on his arm open, the blood running out of his system in a fresh stream. The sweet release of an old demon comforting him.

He fell into a pool of his own blood due to his legs giving out; he was too weak to stand by that point. A sadistic grin lay upon his face though.

The pool of his blood was warm.

So warm.

.

.

.

The amount of policemen on the corner of Blanc Ave. and 45th Street rivaled the number of that in the police station on that dreary night. You could point them out on the sidewalk, little wires sticking out of their ears here, a flash of a badge in the moonlight there. It's a wonder that the light grey car with the tag "K1S5MG1M6" didn't turn around as soon as it drove into the established meeting place.

"Remember, don't move until you see the third flash from a flashlight," Detective Harvey Bullock reminded Detective Jim Gordon for the third time. He knew his mind was somewhere else.

"Yeah, alright."

"You alright, Jim?"

"Doing fine."

"Alright," Harvey sighed, "just be ready." Jim rolled his eyes. With the amount of cops here, even if he slipped up Don Maroni's men didn't stand a chance.

The car door slammed and the first light was flashed.

"One," Bullock jumped.

"Don't pee yourself, Harvey," Jim attempted to lighten up.

"Shut up."

The second light.

"Two," Jim stated this time. One more.

"Three!" Harvey shouted, and thirty-nine officers of the Gotham City Police Department ambushed four of Maroni's men, without any casualties. After two minutes of firing back, the four men surrendered.

"We got them!" Harvey shouted. Jim smiled, emptily.

He couldn't shake this feeling in his gut. He felt oddly cold inside.

"I'm gonna head home."

"You sure?" Harvey asked, "Drinks are on me."

"I'll take a rain check, thanks," Jim chuckled slightly.

"Your loss," the old detective shrugged.

It took Jim exactly fifteen minutes and three seconds to get home after the cold feeling in his gut.

.

.

.

Fifteen minutes and three seconds after Bruce Wayne landed in a pool of his own blood, Jim Gordon opened the door to his dark apartment and turned on the light.

He aimed to be quiet coming in as to not disturb Bruce, but he ended up knocking over the coat rack in the process. The detective cursed and set it back up, placing his coat on the rack and heading into the kitchen for water.

He turned the light on and dropped his keys.

"Bruce!" He screamed and ran to the boys sighed. He checked for a pulse on the lifeless body. It was there, just barely, but it was there.

"God damn it, Bruce!" He swore and picked up the phone. "Hello? Yes. This is Jim Gordon, I need in ambulance. Right now. Thank you." Bruce groaned next to him.

He took the boys head and placed it in his lap, cradling it for dear life.

"Please Bruce, please stay with me. I made a promise, don't leave me now," Jim whispered into the boys ear. "Please, stay with me."

For the first time in a long time, Jim Gordon felt tears well up in his eyes. He was beginning to realize just how important this boy was to him.

The two a.m. screaming. The sleepless nights. The painstaking hours of therapy. The takeout runs at ungodly hours. The late night conversations that he could never even dream of having with any other human being. Jim couldn't imagine a world without all these things, that were just unmistakably Bruce. He couldn't let this boy die on him now.

He had to be okay.

It was Jim Gordon's turn to sob.

.

.

.

Sitting in the hospital waiting room next to Selina Kyle - he had at least managed to make her aware of the situation in all his haste - Jim Gordon was distraught. He didn't know what to do.

"He's okay. The cuts weren't bad, but they bled too long. It will take him some time to regain his strength," the doctor interrupted his thoughts.

"Thank you!" Jim sighed in relief, and Selina whisperer something incoherent.

Jim couldn't shake the thought, though. This boy.. He kept trying to die, when all he really wanted was to live.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey everybody.. I know it's been awhile; life's kind of gotten in the way. But, I'm going to attempt to get on an every two weeks update schedule. This past month has been CRAZY and with my dad being in the hospital, I've had other stuff I've had to do. Anyway, you don't care about that, but I'm hoping to get on an every other week schedule to switch between Agony and His Boy. Thank you for being patient and as always, feel free to review, PM,** **follow, or favorite!**

 **WARNING: Self Harm plays a big role in this story. I understand if you cannot handle it, it is okay to turn away.**

 **On with the story!**

 **~G**

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep. 

Bruce's eyes opened to a blinding white. Was this is? Was he in heaven?

"You're awake."

Bruce turned to look at the female voice - Selina Kyle. Nope. He was definitely not in heaven, then. The boy chuckled to himself softly.

"Something funny?" Selina raised an eyebrow, frowning.

"No," Bruce's voice croaked.

"Hmm," Selina quipped.

"How are you?" Bruce smiled politely.

"Fine." 

"Someone's in a mood."

"Really?" 

"What's your problem?"

"What's, my problem? My problem? You! You're my problem! You've been out for three days because you wanted to end it all, and the first thing you say to me is 'how are you?'," Selina raised her voice.

Bruce looked down. "I was only trying to make it easier on everyone. I know how much of a bother I am."

"No," Selina's face was four inches from the young billionaires, her eyes dangerous. "Don't you even fucking start that shit right now."

"But it's the tru-"

"Stop! Just stop Bruce!" Selina yelled. "I don't know where you get these crazy ideas, but just," she sighed, "just stop. Please," her voice was barely audible.

She took a deep breath. "You think that the world would keep spinning, the seasons would still change, but do not tell me, do not tell me that the world would be the same. Don't tell me the gym at the god damn prep school you go to wouldn't be silent for four days in a row after the principal announced your death. Don't tell me Detective Gordon wouldn't have a drink at two in the morning from now on until he drank himself to death. He has a baby on the way Bruce," he sucked in a breath, "didn't know that did you? You know what that would do to him, to his child. To Lee. And," her voice cracked. She looked away, her voice not even considered a whisper.

"To me.. Do you know what that would do to me?" Bruce's heart clenched. He leaned up to comfort her, but she backed away, turning her back to him. "Do you even know, Bruce? There's so many people who care about you."

"Selina, I-" his voice caught in the back of her throat. "I'm.. I'm sorry."

She sighed. "Don't be. Just remember.. Next time- no, not next time. Remember you have people here for you. Please."

"Selina... Selina I-"

"Don't. It's okay," she smiled. Through the window, you could see the sun peaking through. "I've got to go. Clients and such," she gave him a small smile. "I'll see ya around, kid."

She was gone. Bruce sighed and looked at the spot and reminisced where she had been standing. She was so different than anything that he'd ever known.

Bruce was mad at himself, more than anything. He still had things to do. He still had to track down the man who killed his parents, and his new goal. He would find Tabitha Galavan. And he would kill her.

Selina and Detective Gordon could help him, more help coming from the former than the latter. Bruce didn't know what his problem was, but every time Jim Gordon heard the name Galavan, a shiver ran down his spine and he instantly turned pale in the face. He just didn't know if he-

His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of soft lips that ghosted over his, just briefly. It was so chaste that if he wasn't honed in on every move Selina made, he wouldn't have known it was her.

"I'm glad you're alive," was the whisper left in the empty space where she had been.

And with that, she had disappeared. Bruce sat up in his hospital bed, adjusted his hospital gown - he hated the things - and stared at the window which she had used to make such a quick exit. The curtains still billowed with the soft breeze from the early morning wind, and the sun began to peak over the skyline, the world an ambient orange.

Bruce smiled for the first time in a long time; after weeks of the dreary confines of his mind, he finally had a focus, a purpose in this world. He felt bright, and on fire, burning even. He felt alive.

.

.

.

It had been four days since Bruce was released from the hospital, and he was beginning to get sick of Lee's constant attention on him, even though it was very thoughtful. She had apparently decided he was going to be her first patient as she experimented with psychology.

"How are you feeling today?" She would question.

"I'm feeling just fine, thank you," was the same reply she had received for four days.

"Are you feeling any trauma?"

"Nope," Bruce nodded curtly and that would be the end of that. But, since she didn't have anywhere to be on Friday other than Jim's place - which she she already was - the boy guessed she was not satisfied.

"Really Bruce," she smiled. "It's okay to feel things. To have emotions. You've been through a lot, and if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to." Bruce didn't know what compelled him to speak, but he did.

"I'm angry."

"And that is perfectly okay. It's only natural to feel-"

"I'm angry at myself."

"And why is that?"

"I was acting foolishly."

"How so?"

"I still have so much left to do here on this earth."

Lee smiled. "That's good! What do you want to do? Are you thinking of law school, or maybe medical school. Oh! With your brains, you could even go to engineering school and-"

"I want to find the man who killed my parents, and I want to kill him."

"Oh," she set her cup of tea down.

"And I will find Tabitha Galavan. I will kill her too," he deadpanned. She looked concerned.

"Look Bruce, I know you have a lot of built up rage, but anger and violence is never the answer. That is a dangerous path you're going down. Are you sure you want to do that?"

He looked her in the eyes. "I have never wanted something more." She sighed.

"Supposed you find these people. How will you kill them? What will you use to kill them? Will you leave the bodies or hide them? Confess to the crime?"

"I.. Haven't thought that far ahead."

"Well you better, if you're planning something that big," she raised her eyebrow and took another sip from her cup.

"You don't understand what it's like to have everything ripped away from you, do you?"

"Luckily, I do not, and I won't pretend to," she smiled, "but I will try to help you as best I can. We're here for you Bruce. You can always come to me or Jim. So that's why I am asking. Please just reconsider your plans? Let yourself calm down and settle first before acting rash, okay?"

Bruce gave her a curt smile. "Definitely."

"Thank you," she pulled him into a hug. He squirmed but eventually hugged her back. He would never admit it out loud, but he needed the hug so badly. Just to feel another human being's presence so close to his reminded him he was still here. He still thought he wasn't sometimes.

.

.

.

Jim Gordon had experienced a lot of things in his life, but nothing as confusing as Bruce Wayne.

He let out a long sigh as he leaned on the desk in his home office and held his head in his hands. It was Saturday night, he was off, and he was sitting here sifting through files over the Wayne murders and Tabitha Galavan. They didn't have much on her; she just kind of showed up out of the blue with her - shiver - brother. He grit his teeth and pushed back from his desk, rolling his chair into the glass wall that overlooked the city below.

Slowly, he turned his chair around and looked at how the moonlight cast a ghostly light across the skyline. It gave it an eerie luminescence that made his skin crawl. He leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes and let out that long sigh again.

He didn't know how much more of this he could handle. He had almost lost Bruce just five days ago. He knew he shouldn't have left him here alone. It was all his fault. He was beginning to get so caught in between all of the police work and the extra "Bruce work". He didn't have time to sleep anymore. The more information he could feed to Bruce, the more it distracted him.

He didn't notice the door squeak or the little patter of feet touching black-stained hardwood floors until it was standing in a dark mass of sleepiness and blankets two feet away from him.

He looked towards the boy. "It's three in the morning, you should bed asleep," Jim said gently.

"I could say the same about you."

"Yeah but this is my job."

"Well this is mine. Go to bed," Bruce said forcefully.

"Oh no, not you too. Did Lee put you up to this?"

Bruce smiled slightly. "No, but I should talk to her. We could plan some amazing things." Jim shuddered.

"Anyway. Go to bed Bruce."

"Not until you do."

"Alright," Jim smiled coyly. "Time for an all-nighter." He could see Bruce's resilience quiver. He knew the boy was tired, but would never show it. He looked into the giant saucers he called eyes and mentally suppressed a groan. "Or.. I guess.. I'll head towards bed."

"Thank God," Bruce huffed under his breath and stood in the doorway, waiting for Jim to stand up. Jim put his glasses down and slowly walked toward the door, silently thankful for the boy's intervention. He really did need some rest.

"Night Bruce."

"Goodnight, Jim."

And in a small, significant moment, Detective Gordon felt two small arms wrap around his torso. Slightly taken aback, he put his around around the frail frame of Bruce Wayne and they both stood there in silence, neither letting go for a long time. It symbolized their relationship - symbiosis. Not one without the other. If one let go, the other would be soon to fall. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not.

Neither let go until the sun came up and Lee walked in with fresh coffee and donuts.


End file.
